"Have you tried canadian tire?" I ask him, kind of not really caring. I had a place I would have liked to be at! And it's a place where I get into sweaty, shirtless fights with other sweaty, shirtless men!

Henderson sighs, "I'm not looking to buy any," he says, "I'm lookin' for the namblies that stole my only gnome after I asked where they took the rest of 'em. The yellow sods sic'd their poodle on me, and, before I know it the whole place is burning and some of 'em namblies were runnin'. Ya couldn' 'ave missed it."

Henderson considers this, "Actually, you migh' 'ave missed it, as it be a pile of matchsticks now...used matchsticks..."

Logged

[8:49:50 AM] Daniel Mahan: He can still get RAEG[8:49:52 AM] Daniel Mahan: Just better at not loosing his marbles over it.[8:50:09 AM] Helligator:> losing his marbles over it I seeeee what you did there[11:00:22 PM] francobull III: elf, will you do rin?[11:00:33 PM] Jennifer Bratcher: I would love to do Rin![11:00:39 PM] Jennifer Bratcher: I'd bend her over and . . .[11:00:45 PM] francobull III: woah woah

Rebeca almost sighed at this man in front of her; he did not really keep in line with his thoughts. It was refreshing to meet someone slightly more impulsive at least.

She was about to reply until an ungodly sound hit her like a cinderblock. She blinked and she tried to ignore the pain from it, ‘What the hell is that…’

Then the source sat down at her table and began to speak to both her and the other man.

Thoughts spiraled, no sense, no purpose. It was almost as if she was hearing a broken microphone hit the ground in a presentation, again, and again, and again, and again.

She slowly put one of her hands to her head, almost covering her right eye.

Then she spoke out, her head throbbing while trying to figure out this man (THIS IS NOT A MAN NO FUCKING PERSON CAN THINK LIKE THIS!), “G-garden gnomes… y-yea there… there is a spec...specialty shop… over that way.” She lied though her grit teeth, her voice breaking multiple times as she fought the pain, and she pointed in a random direction down the street, desperately hoping this man would leave.

Shirou looked down from his perch atop a skyscraper, watching the Dead Apostle carefully with his magically reinforced eyes. Ever since he had “died” and arrived at the Nexus, he had taken it upon himself to serve as a guardian for the mundane humans that couldn’t protect themselves. It hadn’t been long before he found the vampire, and she wasn’t too hard to investigate either, considering that she spent nearly every night on the prowl out in the open. The freelance magus didn’t know what her objective was, but he knew it couldn’t be good. As he had learned the hard way, Dead Apostles were always bad news. Shirou closed his eyes and held out his hands, greying hair falling over his features as he turned his head down and concentrated.

“Trace, on.” With those simple words spoken in English, Shirou felt the trigger slam down in the back of his mind as his magic circuits activated. The air before him shimmered blue, and suddenly cold metal existed where there had been nothing before. The magus grasped his bow with his left hand and projected an “arrow” – more accurately a modified sword – in his right. Shirou opened his eyes and pulled the arrow back until the bowstring was taut, taking careful aim at the vampire two kilometers away. Faint green lines appeared on his skin, a sign that he was using a large amount of his power at once. The arrow began to glow red as prana filled it, pushing the structure of the weapon to the breaking point. A half-dozen more red arrows shimmered into existence next to him, floating in the air until his command. He held his breath, waiting for the perfect moment between heartbeats…

With a loud rush of wind, Shirou released his right hand, sending his arrow screaming down at his target close to mach speeds. The arrows floating around him followed suit, raining down on the vampire. A flare of blue light cropped up where the bombardment struck, the magical arrows detonating in a flash of unnatural fire.

Logged

YOLF: "Do ghosts have aids"

YOLF: Even if God forgives you, you shall not forgive yourself for being here [in CE].

Sakura continued her brisk walk, glancing at many seemingly random objects as she moved forward, barely even paying attention to her route. Every once in a while, she would stop to investigate something, a bush, an alleyway, a dumpster; she would quickly tear them apart; after she confirmed she hadn't found what she was looking for, she returned to her walk, an eerie and obsessive look in her eyes.

From the outside, it was clear to see that something was alive underneath the old books. Something that, conceivably, and understandably, was quite dangerous.

Humans.

Lucas's eyes shot open. The pile of books rippled, then burst as he shot to his feet, blurring into being and sending pages everywhere. There was still some time before he focused, but it seemed from his wild look that he wasn't quite accustomed to waking up just yet.

Vlad Drăculea

They had foolishly assumed that they could challenge him in his own castle. As a matter of fact, their first error had been challenging him at all. They had mental fortitude, if the could make it past the stakes, the forest of vampires and other beings, the dead and the not quite living, impaled upon his lawn.

He propped his head against his hand and reclined in the stone throne in the center of the room. The red flags hung, bearing the golden dragon of his order. The candles had been freshly replaced, and the dark red carpet had been cleaned to a degree it had never seen, even upon it's birth.

In summary, Vlad was pleased. His servant had done the tasks required of him and more, distinguishing himself as always. And now, with the attempted intruders that had trespassed upon the field Vlad had set to detect them, he could prove his worth once more.

"...Butler. Your master calls you."

His burning eyes shone from his throne, as he focused upon his servant.

"There are intruders at our gates. I leave the situation to your discretion."

Reclining further, the lord contemplated for a moment before speaking again.

"...It is cold outside. I desire a spot of 'hot chocolate', as they call it," His voice was quiet, as befitting a nobleman of his stature. "...The Parisian, I think, will do nicely."

If there was one thing Caedia had learned during her numerous adventures it was that 90% of the time something that surprises you was hostile. She ignored the yelling man and looked the pile of books behind him the moment she heard the pieces of literature fall to the ground.

When the red haired stranger burst from it she let loose the bolt of magickal energy and quickly made another one. This bolt shifted its hue to a light blue before she released it and the moment she did it split into six separate bolts all aimed at the redheaded man. In about a second she realized she had forgotten that the other man was standing in front of the one that had just burst out of the pile of books.

He heard the explosion of books and paper, and was about to turn and face the threat when the woman launched her shots. The glowing red one followed by… was that six arrows at a time.

“AHH" he exclaimed as he dived to the side, narrowly avoiding impalement by the whole slew of arrows.

He dived into a roll and found himself standing again, off to the side of the bitch and the new threat, a red headed man.

Before he could react he saw his shadow, produced by an odd red light behind him. Frowning he turned his head, only to see the glowing red light coming from what looked like an arrow stuck to his scarf.

Its glow was getting brighter and Crest’s eyes widened.

“SHIT!” He yelled.

‘Rejection of Existence!’

And at that moment the arrow exploded into flames, the explosion of fire larger then it should be with the abundance of fuel. With Crest, his form having turned black as the night sky, as the epicenter.

Forest heard the scream in the air, like a shot being fired. Automatically the vampire looked up to see the rain of projectiles coming down at her. There was no time to move, just time enough to shield herself with a near-by trashcan.

Teeth bit into and then through her lip at the inferno that raged around her as the attack exploded. The taste of her cold blood filled her mouth as she was suddenly engulfed in white-hot agony. She kept from screaming as she rolled on the ground, dousing the fire. Most of her skin was seared and blistered, white bone showing through charred black, her clothing was disintegrated in places, but she wasn't dead.

Flames raged around her as she manged to stand to her feet, every nerve protesting at the action. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned where the attack had came from, anger cutting through the apathy. Part of her was seeking death; nothing was tying her here. She was without her Poppet, Ash, Wynn, and hell, even Hawk Hunters of all people. Nexus was a pox and a blight. Nothing she did would matter in the long run. No matter how many people she helped and saved, in the end of the day she'd go home to an empty home and an empty bed. Alone.

Unwanted.

However this wanker attempted to kill me by shooting me in the back.

She took off at a dead run towards the person who had attempted to kill her.

******

Saber felt her throat tightened at the sight before her. There was blood everywhere, covering the wall in a crimson spray. There were thicker things too, and her stomach rolled at the stench of it all.

She swallowed the fiery touch of bile in her throat as she looked amongst the viscera covering the walls. "A monster did this," she said in a soft voice as her feet barely made a sound as she stood forward. Before she could move any closer, a pale man in white walked into the room. A frown crossed her lovely features as the Pale Man held his hands in prayer.

The former king walked over to him and said, "Your respect for the dead is admirable, but could you please step back. We need to keep this area as untouched as possible so we can find the monster responsible for this heinous act."

His hands remained in place until he finished his prayer, “Know peace my brother.” And with that his prayer was done.

He turned to face the woman before him; he moved his eyes, examining her as if she was simply a painting and not a living being. His eyes took on a look of pity as he examined her.

“I see… thou are polluted, my dear sister, but not far enough to forget thine nature, for that you have earned my respect and thanks for allowing me to see such a wondrous thing. However I am sorry for thine fate.” He paused before looking at the gruesome scene before him.

Not that anyone would know but Hamara just declared that he will kill this woman in the future; however other issues took precedence, such as the circumstance before him.

“I will hunt the monster, evidence means nothing, for the beast will die at my hands. Do not concern thyself with it and assist our brothers and sisters, allow me to preform my duty.” He declared with finality, a tone that was completely absolute. It was truth to him; the beast WILL die, as will all others.

Lawrence shoved his hands into his thick milsurp jacket, the cold air leaving mist trailing behind him with each breath. God, it was chilly. So chilly.

You need to get warm.

Yeah, well, not my fault whatever sucked us in here happened to take our gas too.

The Taxi Driver was getting to be a real pain in the ass. Lawrence still didn't know what to make of his new soulmate, even after two months of learning some of the tricks of the Sin-Eater's arsenal. He didn't really understand the whole deal with the gates and the ghosts, but he knew they were linked. Maybe he'd open one sometime, and take a peek at whatever was below. But for right now, that took minor consideration as to determining where the fuck he was, and finding someplace at least semi-warm to rest. The weather was only going to go from bad to worse. So when he turned down the alley way and saw someone moving who wasn't living, he stopped. This was in retrospect a mistake, as suddenly his world was engulfed in a buffet of firey air and jagged metal scraps.

He'd have died for a second time if the Driver wasn't watching out for him again, a rod of metal as thick as his thumb having burrowed its way through his coat towards his heart. Plasm stitched the wounds together as he gasped for air, minor cuts and scraps leaking a white vapor of ectoplasmic energy as his body instinctively reacted to keep him alive. On his back Lawrence was still alive - singed, bleeding, and currently trying his hardest to pull the searing hot rod from his body, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from screaming in pain.

The not-alive girl was in better shape than him, and going after whatever had decided to make him - or her, or them - a dead, or more dead man. Crawling back and propping himself against a dumpster, Law left a trail of ectoplasm on the ground. If only the damn rod had gone straight through him... this was far more painful than even a knife to the gut had been.Hey, maybe we can borrow whatever sort of fucking flamethrower that was. Will that make you shut up?

Henderson sighs, "I'm not looking to buy any," he says, "I'm lookin' for the namblies that stole my only gnome after I asked where they took the rest of 'em. The yellow sods sic'd their poodle on me, and, before I know it the whole place is burning and some of 'em namblies were runnin'. Ya couldn' 'ave missed it."

Henderson considers this, "Actually, you migh' 'ave missed it, as it be a pile of matchsticks now...used matchsticks..."

There comes a time in every man's life where he needs to decide whether he wants to become friends with the insane, or dodge them completely and make them someone else's problem.

That time had come.

And so did I.

"You know, I don't know about gnomes, but I did see some yellow-looking bastards training poodles for combat down by..." Oh god, I had no idea what I was about to say. "The riverside, you know, near the..." Had to something up, you fag. "Yellow seven-eleven close to the bridge, you know, the one that sells rocket, uh, sauce."

Yes, frawress victory, I had declined a shamefur dispray the opportunity to show its ugry, shamefur face.

Then she spoke out, her head throbbing while trying to figure out this man (THIS IS NOT A MAN NO FUCKING PERSON CAN THINK LIKE THIS!), “G-garden gnomes… y-yea there… there is a spec...specialty shop… over that way.” She lied though her grit teeth, her voice breaking multiple times as she fought the pain, and she pointed in a random direction down the street, desperately hoping this man would leave.

Wow, she looked like shit. Did she, like... did she need an ambulance?

Remember your first-aid training, Donkey.

"Are you in pain?" I ask in an almost exaggerated tone, the same that dumbass in the first aid video took. First, check the patient for wounds. None. Next, ask them if they are in pain, and if yes ask where. Then I need to ask if she hit her head, or has allergies, or uh... asthma?

I don't remember this shit. Goddamn it, I'm an idiot for sleeping through that day.

Then she spoke out, her head throbbing while trying to figure out this man (THIS IS NOT A MAN NO FUCKING PERSON CAN THINK LIKE THIS!), “G-garden gnomes… y-yea there… there is a spec...specialty shop… over that way.” She lied though her teeth, her voice breaking multiple times as she fought the pain, and she pointed in a random direction down the street, desperately hoping this man would leave.

Henderson turns to the girl, "...Apologies for not introducing myself," he says, "Name's Henderson and I'm not looking to buy lawn gnomes, I'm searching for the namblies who took mine...Are you going to be alright?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice. Bad influence as he may be, Henderson prided himself on not being actively mean to other when he could help it. Gnome-stealing bastards would be excluded from this, but this girl seemed alright, except she seemed to be in pain...

Henderson considers for a moment offering the girl a hit of weed, and pours out some of the stuff he had with him onto a piece of paper he kept with him for just these occasions.

"Perhaps a decent cuppa' would help," he says, moving the French Roast closer to the girl, then giving her some space.

Meanwhile, the page of the Necronomicon begins glowing slightly, attracting another employee to the counter, before dropping him onto the now growing pile of people.

There comes a time in every man's life where he needs to decide whether he wants to become friends with the insane, or dodge them completely and make them someone else's problem.

That time had come.

And so did I.

"You know, I don't know about gnomes, but I did see some yellow-looking bastards training poodles for combat down by..." Oh god, I had no idea what I was about to say. "The riverside, you know, near the..." Had to something up, you fag. "Yellow seven-eleven close to the bridge, you know, the one that sells rocket, uh, sauce."

Yes, frawress victory, I had declined a shamefur dispray the opportunity to show its ugry, shamefur face.

Wow that was bad, how about I never think again.

With that, an idea strikes Henderson, "...Rocket...They're going to put me wee men on rockets?! And they've got more of those...ah, wa' 'id Fink call 'em...Shag...shog...shoggoths?!"

At the mention of the word, the ruined page of the Necronomicon starts pulsing a deep violet, faster and faster.

Noticing it for the first time, Henderson looks at the artifact curiously, then walks over to it as the wind begins to pick up, stuffs it in his wallet again, silencing the display of power, heads back to the table to grab his French Roast before stopping to say something to the young man, "You there. Make sure that girl gets to a hospital. If ya're feeling up t' a good fight later, come by a hookah bar tomorrow, I'll be there."

With that, he leaves the Tim Horton's down three employees, a bagel, and three French Roasts, hopping into his battered Buick, working his way out of the parallel park, and peeling out, heading for that bridge he'd gotten the stash of weed he kept for a last resort.

Back at the restaurant, the rolled blunt lay innocuously on the table, rolled in some strange looking paper.

[8:49:50 AM] Daniel Mahan: He can still get RAEG[8:49:52 AM] Daniel Mahan: Just better at not loosing his marbles over it.[8:50:09 AM] Helligator:> losing his marbles over it I seeeee what you did there[11:00:22 PM] francobull III: elf, will you do rin?[11:00:33 PM] Jennifer Bratcher: I would love to do Rin![11:00:39 PM] Jennifer Bratcher: I'd bend her over and . . .[11:00:45 PM] francobull III: woah woah

"Every morning, doing the same shit. That's what it is in here." The blonde man clad in a t-shirt and blue jeans complained to his brown-haired and bespectacled companion in business outfit as they walked through a street. "Man, I can't fuckin' believe that I'm actually whining right now about the lack of ass to kick here, Ratt. It just ain't the same since, for some fuckin' reason, we got transported to this East Jesus Nowhere a few months ago. This is bullshit. We had more fun and we had it damn good back in our world, mang. I feel like we've been screwed big-time in this place. What a fucking dump."

"Neo, I suggest that you stop complaining right now." Rattus told him. "It has just been a few weeks ago since we have completed a major objective that involved doing activities you are very fond of. I know very well that the hardest thing to do is being idle, so I suggest you find yourself some recreation that doesn't involve clandestine activities." He continued, before finally ending it with a simple statement. "You are just bored, Neo."

"Well, fuck you, man." Neo retorted as they walked on amongst themselves. "I had to fill in for some motherfucka' who wants to have a weed party in his crib. I ain't got no ganja to smoke my ass off right now, and I won't have it 'til next week. And my research on dat goddamn cure-all I'm workin' at ain't leading me to nowhere. I might not be short of dosh righ' now, but fuck you if you think I would want to blow all of my shit on bottles of Jack."

And then, a black-haired woman in yukata beside Rattus spoke up. "Then it only means you must find something new to do right now, is not that right, Neo-san?" She has been walking with them the whole time.

"Yukina, I know you're retarded, so I'll give you the benefit of the fuckin' doubt that you don't know that I don't want that right now, neither do I want to do some shit that I never had any fuckin' interest with, bitch." Neo snarked at her. "I mean, really? If I wanted to do somethin' new right the fuck now, I would have done that shit. Because, unlike you who keeps readin' Jap gay comics and always happy doing something retarded, I know when I want to do something new and no motherfucker would have to tell me that."

"But I am just giving you an advice, Neo-san." Yukina replied.

"Then get the fuckin' hint, Yukina: I dun want it." Neo said, just before he noticed something...

Sakura continued her brisk walk, glancing at many seemingly random objects as she moved forward, barely even paying attention to her route. Every once in a while, she would stop to investigate something, a bush, an alleyway, a dumpster; she would quickly tear them apart; after she confirmed she hadn't found what she was looking for, she returned to her walk, an eerie and obsessive look in her eyes.

"Senpai..." She muttered.

The three of them noticed this purple haired girl seemingly wandering around the streets, who acted as if was finding something that was not there. They all began to observe carefully, until they heard her mutter something.

"...Did she say 'senpai' right now, Onii-chan?" Yukina addressed to Rattus, looking at him with worry.

"That I think she did, Schwesterchen." Rattus replied to her.

Neo then sniggered and quipped, "Boss, I think she wants her senpai to notice her. You're the man here, so you be the senpai this time, Ratt."

"I see." Rattus affirmed. "I'm going to approach her. Ready yourselves and cover my back." The two them then nodded in agreement.

The bespectacled man then approached her carefully, until he was around 15 feet near her. He then called her out, "Good afternoon, young woman. Do you need any help?"

It had been a month since Mordred ended up in Nexus City. Her last trip to the Hedge had clearly unforeseen consequences, even for a mutable place like it. Chasing down another motley of Privateers, she made one but fatal mistake traversing through trods. She got separated from her unit and entered a section of the Hedge that once entered could not be left, the only exit leading to that city.

At first, Mordred was pretty shocked because it was a major life change for her, but she adjusted. She found a job, a place to stay, she is going weekly to a therapist to help her cope with her issues and certainly the meds proscribed makes the new life less stressful. Still, there was one rumor that bothered her.

There was apparently a doppelganger of hers in the city. She has been already mistook for somebody else, someone with an unusual name. Saber, was it? Okay, she had an odd name too, but being named after a weapon was stranger. But that was not her main concern.

"If she's a Fetch, than that bloody wanker must here after all. If not, I'm off my trolley..."

She had to confront the problem head on, that was her way of doing things. She was after all a Summer Knight, pledged to Legion of Iron Wall, and fannying around was not her style. The weather outside was rather parky, and she did not want to waste Glamour on warming herself up, so she dressed up warmly. She walked out for a patrol dressed in blue jeans, warm white shirt and a red sturdy jacket.

She brought the Dawnspear just in case. An old spear, said to be owned once by a King who promoted change across his lands and vanguished those who clung too tightly to the hoary past. But while it slumbered, it did not look different from an old spear.

To the eyes of most she also looked no different from a human, but anyone able to see her true mien would see a woman clad in white-red armor, heat distortions and warm dry wind surrounding her, with stains of old dried blood here and there.

After she searched the streets of Nexus looking for her 'doppelganger', she finally noticed whom she sought entering a building. However, the building was surrounded by the police. But she had a plan. Mordred took a detour and climbed successfully one of neighborly buildings from which she could observe the windows in the building. She managed to see the two walking into one of windowed rooms, and it seemed they investigated a scene of murder.

Such grizzly scenes did not bother her anymore as she was a warrior and she had seen worse horrors already. There was a human accompanying the woman

As for her 'mark'. Odd, she was not a Fetch or otherwise she would know it already. She was younger and shorter than her, and she seemed to be a human, not a Changeling. Mordred failed to see anything unusual about the girl and even felt kinda relieved that her assumptions were proved wrong Huh, maybe I'm being little potty, she's just a copper. But as she observed what happened there she was noticed by one of policemen surrounding the building. A stranger spying on the building surely seemed suspicious.